The Drink Made Me Do It
by BingeB
Summary: Arthur goes clubbing to get over his crazy ex-girlfriend, but when he meets Merlin, his evening doesn't quite go as planned. SLASH


PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur (SLASH!)  
GENRE: Modern AU, Clubbing!AU  
WORDS: 4000  
RATINGS: T (for language and sexual situations and slash)  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, as per usual.

ONE-SHOT

SUMMARY: Arthur goes clubbing to get over 'Sophia-the-Money-Sucking-Bitch', but when he meets Merlin, his evening doesn't quite go as planned.

A/N Warning: Arthur is a prat. As per usual. :P

* * *

**The Drink Made Me Do It (1/1)**

Arthur stumbled into the club already feeling quite woozy (surely not a good way to start the night), but focused and determined nevertheless. He was going to get over 'Sophia-the-Money-Sucking-Bitch' in the most tried and tested manner possible: get drunk, have filthy anonymous sex, and feel like he'd been hit by a truck in the morning.

He headed straight for the bar, uninterested in dancing until he was appropriately shit-faced - when he could shimmy and grind without feeling like a lap dancer - back straight and jaw set defiantly. He could feel the eyes of the crowd following him, gazes skimming from the top of his tousled blond hair, down to the shiny, black shoes.

He smirked triumphantly and swayed his hips, all too aware of the attention and appraising glances he was receiving. Arthur knew he wasn't exceptionally intelligent, kind or even remotely sensitive, but if he had one positive characteristic, it was he knew how to look good. The dark blue of his shirt complimented his eyes, and the tight snugness of his jeans showcased his long legs and ass, completing the 'Shag-Me-Now' look he had been aiming for - much to his step-sister Morgana's exasperation and chagrin.

He knew that getting drunk and sleeping with lots of people wasn't exactly going to solve all his problems, just as Morgana had disgustedly pointed out, but it was certainly going to make him feel better, and Arthur was anything if not determined. He had even already decided on the one-night stand he'd be aiming for: someone strong, well-built and most definitely male, in every way opposite to 'Sophia the Money-Sucking Bitch' - mostly so Arthur would not feel the urge to throttle his bed-partner and potentially be arrested for assault. Because spending a night in prison would not be a good way to end the week.

As he moved through the crowd he was _already_ allowing his eyes to skim over appropriate candidates, finding a few that spiked his interest, ready and surprisingly eager to begin the night.

He approached the bar with a faint sense of excitement, pushing his way through the small throng of people and straight to the front, collapsing on a vacant bar stool. The nearest barmaid was a short distance away - a petite woman with curly, dark hair - serving drinks to a small crowd of students, eyes bright and smile unnaturally wide.

Just as he was waiting for her to reach him, however, someone spoke beside him, sounding sharp, disbelieving and strangely incredulous. "There is a queue, you know?!" said the voice, far closer than Arthur had realised.

The blond jumped slightly in surprise and whipped his head to the right, coming face to face with a tall, thin man, with messy black hair and bright blue eyes. He was staring at Arthur in amazement, clutching a sparkly, fruity drink in a long, pale hand. "So, what does it matter to you?" the blond replied, shrugging his shoulders. He no time to deal with a strange man's petty quarrels - he had things to do, people to fuck. "You've already got your drink."

The man spluttered, evidently having been expecting a response other than blatant disregard. "T-that's not the point!" he squawked, causing Arthur to roll his eyes. "You can't just push in. There are other people behind you!"

"Do you hear them complaining?" Arthur pointed out, glancing backwards. "No. So mind your own business."

The stranger's mouth dropped open, a sight that the blond found secretly amusing, but his grip on his glass tightened significantly. He gaped for a couple of seconds before drawing himself up, apparently unable to voice his disbelief efficiently enough. "You are an absolute -"

"Look, big-ears," Arthur interrupted, not interested in hearing anything else the strange man had to say, "I'm not in the mood. Go bitch to someone else if you haven't got anything better to do."

"I was here first!" the man cried, looking affronted. "And I'm not big-ears! My name is Merlin!"

The blond shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal. He needed a drink, and he needed one now.

"Oh my god," continued the man, sounding breathless, "I don't think I've ever met such a twat in my life."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the drinks menu he was looking at, but didn't turn to address Merlin directly, lips curving into a small smirk. "Are you still talking to me, or are you talking to yourself?" he asked, sounding bored; it was a tone he had perfected flawlessly over the years.

He heard the stranger stutter in a breath. "I'm talking to _you_. I just thought I should inform you about what a twat you are."

"Well, I'm not listening," Arthur informed him, thoroughly unconcerned. He trailed a finger down the menu, settled it on tequila, and watched the barmaid come closer, pointedly ignoring the man to his left. "Two tequila shots," he asked, as soon as she stopped in front of him, giving her a broad and charming smile.

He heard Merlin snort, but he thankfully said nothing further, allowing Arthur to down his shots in peace.

Suddenly feeling a whole lot happier with himself, and indeed the world in general, he ordered another two more, pleased that his evening was finally going as planned. All he needed to do now was find someone ready and willing, accost them on the dance floor, and go home a happy man. Simple.

He downed his extra two shots with gusto and got to his feet, rubbing his hands on the sides of his jeans and feeling the world tilt slightly.

"Where are you going?" said Merlin's voice next to him, in a tone that almost sounded genuinely interested.

"To dance," Arthur replied snottily, waving his arm in the direction of the dance floor and turning away.

Honestly, there were in a _club_, where on earth did the idiot _think_ he was going?

* * *

Half an hour later, after grinding himself up against a fellow dancer and sticking his tongue down his throat, Arthur had well and truly had enough.

His dance partner (tall, dark and tanned, just as Arthur had imagined) was behaving in a rather peculiar manner. The blond vaguely wondered if the man - Owain, if he remembered correctly - thought he was a complete idiot, or just mind-numbingly, can't-see-in-a-straight-line drunk. Because, although a little tipsy, Arthur was definitely not either.

But it certainly hadn't stopped Owain from running his hands down Arthur's back, over his jean-clad thighs, and caressing the material he found there. Normally the blond wouldn't have cared, as inappropriate touching was what hook-ups were all about, but Owain seemed more interested in copping a feel at his shiny leather wallet, rather than his ass.

Arthur scowled, feeling rather disappointed and irritated with the man's behaviour. It was nothing short of insulting that the man seemed more interested in his money than his ass - he had a very _nice_ ass! And it was probably worth more than his wallet!

Drawing away with a petulant scowl, he gave Owain the finger and turned on a heel, marching straight back towards the bar. Despite his plans, there was no way he was going to hook up with someone who would probably rob him blind at the first opportunity; he was desperate, but not completely idiotic.

"So, how's whoring yourself out going?" came an all too familiar voice, just as the blond reached the counter, arms crossed angrily.

Spinning towards the person that would dare speak to him in such a way, Arthur's anger dissolved slightly as he found himself face to face with Merlin, still perched in his seat from earlier and clutching the very same drink. He was smiling inanely in amusement, dimples flashing momentarily, but there was something akin to disapproval in his eyes, dark and hooded in the dim light.

"Oh, it's _you_," the blond snapped, fists curling defensively. He collapsed in the still-vacant bar stall and turned to the barmaid, not bothering to dignify the strange man with a glance. "I'm not whoring myself out, I'm just having a bit of fun." He paused, before adding as an afterthought, "Not that it's any business of yours."

But Merlin merely continued to smile, raising his eyes exasperatedly towards the heavens. "A twat and a slut," he muttered, in a tone that was playful, but still rather insulting, "Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse."

Arthur couldn't stop his head from snapping to the side, fixing the man with one of his most deadly glares. It wasn't the look of supreme unconcern he'd originally been aiming for, but white-hot anger was searing in his chest, preventing him from letting the stranger's harsh words go unchallenged. "Do you have some sort of problem?" he hissed, sounding so threatening that for one brief moment something close to alarm flared in Merlin's eyes. "Or are you actually _trying_ to piss me off?! 'Cause it's working!"

Merlin smiled again, so open and friendly, Arthur was suddenly sure he'd imagined the momentary fear. He gave the blond a cheeky grin and took a sip of his drink, eyes dancing playfully in the flashing lights. "Maybe," he admitted, voice quietly challenging.

Unable to find an appropriate reply, and feeling his anger melting away, the blond turned back to the bar and grumbled into his new drink, the flavour sharp and sour on his tongue. The man was obviously enjoying get a rise out of him, and the last thing Arthur needed was to encourage it further.

"So…" Merlin spoke again, after a pause, apparently utterly incapable of keeping his mouth shut. "Are you like this all the time, or is today just an exception?"

"Are you still talking?" Arthur asked incredulously, although he couldn't help but respond to the question regardless, curiosity piqued; the shots really must have been going to his head. "What do you mean, like this?"

"Twatish and slutty," Merlin grinned, definitely joking now.

Arthur frowned, feeling slightly defensive by the accusations, unable to suppress the urge to defend himself. "If you must know, my girlfriend turned out to be 'Sophia the Money-Sucking Bitch'," he found himself saying, ordering another shot, "So I'm drowning my sorrows."

"Right." Merlin nodded importantly, lips curling into something closer to a sneer than an actual smile. "And grinding yourself against anything that moves."

Arthur's head whipped back again, anger flaring in his chest. The man didn't even know him; he had absolutely _no_ _right_ to make comments about things he knew nothing about. "Excuse me, I have some standards," the blond snapped, scowling at the stranger. "I certainly haven't ground myself against _you_, have I?"

Merlin paused, blinked confusedly, and looked down. "No."

Arthur suppressed a flash of something awfully similar to guilt, and downed two more shots, eager to get back to the dance-floor and away from the bewildering stranger.

* * *

"I mean, is it too much to ask?" Arthur moaned, half an hour later, after his latest unsuccessful dance partner had been so wasted they almost threw up on him.

"No," Merlin replied, swirling his drink around with a cocktail stick and shrugging his shoulders.

He was still sat in the same position as he had been when Arthur had first arrived, and hadn't moved while the blond had been dancing, evidently choosing to stay leaning on the bar and sipping his drink. He had even left Arthur's seat open for when he returned, despite the manner in which their previous conversation had ended, which the blond was mildly grateful for; his ability to stand upright unaided was becoming increasingly questionable.

"I just want to have some _fun_," he continued, only dimly aware that he was beginning to slur. He pouted down at his shot glasses and sighed, dimly annoyed that they were not managing to refill themselves. "Is it impossible to find someone in this place that actually wants to have sex with me, rather than try to rob me blind or puke all over my new shoes?"

"Not impossible," Merlin replied, looking up from his glass and meeting Arthur's gaze. "I think almost everyone in here would have sex with you."

"Well, I've yet to find anyone," the blond complained, flagging down the barmaid and ordering himself a couple more shots. He turned away from the man's too-blue eyes, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny, face now flushed and sweaty with his exhilaration. "This is not how the night was supposed to go."

"Right," Merlin nodded, sounding a bit strained. He rested elbow on the bar and his head on his hand, purposely avoiding Arthur's gaze.

Suddenly feeling a bit flummoxed by the behaviour, the blond paused, momentarily finishing his tirade. He attempted to change the subject instead, feeling curious as to why Merlin was there and actually listening to him, considering the unpleasant manner of their first encounter. And their second, for that matter.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked, swaying slightly in his seat. "You haven't moved all night."

"Oh," the man mouthed, looking up. "I'm waiting for Gwen." At Arthur's look of incomprehension, he added, "The barmaid."

The blond nodded, feeling slightly dizzy with the movement. "I see. Girlfriend?"

Merlin laughed suddenly, bright and bubbly, mouth stretched wide and eyes crinkling in the corners - Arthur almost cringed at its radiance. "God, no," the dark-haired man replied, meeting his curious gaze. "I'm gay."

"And you don't mind waiting for her?" the blond asked, choosing to breeze over the new information, as was the Pendragon way. There was no need to make the conversation more awkward and uncomfortable than it already was.

Merlin frowned. "Um, no, she's my friend." He paused for a moment before smiling, looking up at Arthur from under his rather long lashes. "Besides, I don't mind listening to you. It's quite amusing hearing you rant and rave." Arthur felt quite insulted, because he was a Pendragon, and Pendragon's most certainly did _not_ rant and rave. "You're actually not so bad. Just a bit screwed up."

Arthur straightened his back and let out distasteful sniff, looking away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Merlin laughed again. "Oh, please, you've named your ex-girlfriend 'Sophia-The-Money-Sucking-Bitch'." Arthur blinked confusedly, trying to recall mentioning such a thing. _He'd said that? _The drink really must have been going to his head. "You have to admit you've got some issues."

"No, issues," the blond snapped, flicking a coaster down the length of the bar. "None."

Merlin blinked and raised his eyebrows, looking insultingly sceptical.

Arthur scowled at the shiny surface of the bar, suddenly feeling even angrier. "Just because I want to throttle the skinny bitch, doesn't mean I have issues."

Merlin's eyebrows were in serious danger of disappearing into his hairline, eyes wide with disbelief. "Right. And don't forget, you've come to a club to have sex with a random stranger to get over her," he pointed out, raising his chin defiantly. "Issues! I'm just being honest."

For a complete lack of anything else to say, Arthur found himself mouthing childishly, doing a rather poor impression of Merlin's speech. But rather than be offended, the stranger laughed, a high twinkling sound that echoed disturbingly through Arthur's head.

"Very mature," Merlin grinned. "So, what's your name anyway? I know all about your life - Morgana the evil step-sister, and 'Sophia-the-Money-Sucking-Bitch' - but I don't even know your name."

Arthur blinked, feeling a bit discomfited. He'd actually told a complete stranger (one that didn't even like him) the horrific details of his messy personal life; maybe the whole getting legless part of the plan hadn't been entirely foolproof after all.

But he replied to Merlin nevertheless, figuring that he couldn't really do_ anymore _harm. "My name's Arthur," he admitted, quite solemnly.

Merlin smiled, all killer dimples and flashy teeth. "Nice to meet you, Arthur. I'm Merlin."

Arthur refrained from pointing out he already knew that, eventually realising Merlin was trying to reintroduce himself on a much happier note, considering their first meeting had been less than friendly. "Nice to meet you, Merlin."

But before the dark-haired man could say anything more, a tall dark stranger appeared abruptly at Arthur's side, towering over him.

"Excuse me," said the man, causing Arthur to blink up at him in surprise. "Would you like to dance?"

It took the blond an embarrassingly long time to realise that the stranger was talking to him, before he started, mouth opening slowly. He assessed the newcomer, taking in his long lean frame and floppy brown hair, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically disconcerted. Either he was getting a severe case of beer-boggles, or the man was absurdly good-looking.

"Yeah, sure," Arthur said at last, pulling himself together and getting to his feet. He was finding it hard to believe that that world could be _so_ kind, when he looked to Merlin, ready to shoot him a snotty and triumphant glance.

Before he could so much as smile, however, the expression on the dark-haired man's face caused him to freeze.

Merlin was looking between Arthur and the stranger with a strange frozen expression, a flush spreading up from his neck to the tips of his ears. He looked down at his drink and turned away, shoulders hunched and arms crossed defensively.

"Merlin - ?" Arthur found himself asking, although he really had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Is there a problem?" the handsome stranger wondered, placing a hand on Arthur's arm and giving him a confused smile. He shot a challenging look over at Merlin, fingers tightening possessively around Arthur's wrist, causing the blond to stiffen subconsciously.

"I don't know," Arthur said, looking back towards Merlin, who was watching the blond and his new '_friend_' with hooded eyes. His previous beaming smile had vanished, leaving someone who looked much younger, and much more stroppy. "Do you want me to stay?" Arthur offered, before he'd quite realised what he'd said.

But Merlin smiled, ignoring the look Arthur's new dance partner was shooting him, and shook his head. "No, it's fine," he said, waving a hand. "Go and…get over 'Sophia-the-Money-Sucking-Bitch."

Arthur grinned. "Well, thanks. I guess I'll…see you later then." He slipped his hand into the stunning stranger's sweaty palm and gestured to the dance floor, feeling surprisingly disappointed that the night was finally going as planned; he'd actually been enjoying Merlin's company, and ranting about Sophia to someone other than Morgana had been strangely refreshing.

"Yeah, see you." Merlin nodded.

Turning to the dance floor and following his new partner (whose name turned out to be Pellinor) to the opposite side of the hall, Arthur could practically feel Merlin's eyes following him. But when he looked back, the man had turned away.

* * *

One hour later, Arthur was exhausted, completely coated in sweat. He could feel his hair sticking to his head and his jeans sculpted to his legs. The dance floor was hot and crowded, and Pellinor was almost too good a dancer; he practically made Arthur feel inadequate, something that hadn't happened since he'd last seen Morgana.

Shaking his head to clear it of doubts, he leant into Pellinor's embrace and attempted to look over his shoulder, just to check Merlin hadn't been raped and murdered in his absence. But the man was still sat where Arthur had left him, gazing steadfastly in the other direction.

Arthur cringed and felt his stomach clench at the sight; the shots were obviously having a bit of a woozy effect on him.

"You okay?" asked Pellinor, evidently noticing his discomfort.

"Yeah, just too much to drink, you know?" Arthur replied, swaying slightly, which only served to confirm his words.

Pellinor grinned, nodding his head empathically. "Well, what do you say we take this somewhere else?" he asked, looping his arm around Arthur's waist.

"Right." The blond staggered a bit, feeling dazed and confused, because the thought of going home with Pellinor did not fill him with as much enthusiasm as he'd hoped. "Well, I need to get a drink first," he found himself saying. His head was woozy and he felt as though he owed Merlin some sort of explanation, although he wasn't really sure why. He just knew he needed to get back to the bar, and away from Pellinor's exploring hands.

"I'll wait for you," Pellinor said, and Arthur smiled, tight and strained.

All the alcohol had _definitely_ not been a good idea if it was making him feel so mind-boggling strange.

Shaking his head, he stumbled off the dance floor and back to the bar, collapsing back into his still vacant stall.

Merlin's head whipped sideways and he blinked at him in surprise, before his lips curved into a beaming smile. It was definitely an improvement on his sad face - it was almost pretty. Or maybe Arthur was going blind from the flashing lights. One or the other.

"Hello," Arthur muttered, because he had fuck-all else to say. He wasn't even sure why he'd come back again, but Merlin's happy smile was almost worth the confusion.

"Hello to you too. I thought you'd gone off with that man," the dark-haired man muttered, eyebrows crinkling.

Arthur didn't point out that he was merely having a quick break and then going back to Pellinor, because he really didn't want to see Merlin's miserable eyes. So he shrugged instead, brushing the shining sweat off his face.

"What's wrong with him?" Merlin asked, obviously assuming Pellinor had tried to rob him or puke on his shoes, and Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to correct him.

"He's too…perfect," the blond said, completely unable to think of any good reason as to why he wasn't going home with Pellinor. The man had been perfectly nice, not to mention stunningly good-looking, so he wasn't really sure why he was complaining.

Merlin stared at him. "Too perfect?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded, titling sideways on his stool. "Yeah, too toned and stuff. Practically bulky. And his hair was really shiny. Almost blinding. And his ears are a perfectly normal size."

Merlin stared at him some more, as though he was suddenly speaking in double-dutch. Which he could have been, because Arthur had no idea what he was even saying anymore.

"Arthur…" Merlin began, looking at him with an expression of disbelief and bewilderment, obviously getting some meaning out of Arthur's slurred speech. "Do you want to go home with _me_?" It was not phrased as an invitation, but as a genuine question, huskily low and strangely hopeful.

"No!" Arthur cried, because it was true. He didn't want to go home with Merlin. Merlin was awkward, geeky, and annoying. But really, really _pretty_.

Unfortunately his denial might have been a bit _too_ emotive, because Merlin leant forwards, until he was only inches away from Arthur's face, breath fanning his lips. "You do," he said in wonder, bringing up a hand and brushing it through golden strands. "You do."

Arthur opened his mouth, ready to inform the man that he most certainly_ did not_, when Merlin's lips descended on his own, soft, wet and fruity. And before the blond quite knew what was happening, they were kissing passionately, tongues tangled and hands fisted in shirts.

When they drew apart Merlin was breathing heavily, face flushed, and looking flatteringly delirious.

"Want to get out of here?" Arthur asked, all common sense deserting him. He was totally paralytic, there was no other explanation.

"I thought you'd never ask," Merlin replied, grasping his hand and tugging him swiftly into his embrace.

* * *

"Are you sure you're not too drunk for this?" Merlin gasped half an hour later, hurriedly unbuttoning Arthur's shirt and palming his chest. He placed sloppy kisses in the dip of his collarbone and sucked on the skin, causing the blond to let out a long deep moan. "Because I don't want to feel that I'm taking advantage of you."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur ordered, pushing the dark-haired man straight onto his bed, lips red and swollen. He clambered on top of him and straddled his hips, grinding their arousals together and watching Merlin arch upwards in reply. "I'm not drunk. Not drunk at all."

"Really?" Merlin asked, eyes bright and earnest, mewing sounds tearing from the back of his throat.

Arthur bent down to kiss him, thorough and deep, feeling a whole lot happier than he had in months. "Not anymore," he replied.

Although that didn't stop him from feeling as though he's been hit by a truck in the morning.

END

* * *

A/N Sticking to one-shots because they're the one thing I can finish! Asshole!Arthur for the win!

Please R&R :)


End file.
